A game of ping pong

You won't believe this, given the results, but for this story, the determination of who won the contest was determined by random number generators (as well as which article of clothing was removed). Coin flips for clothing loss and a die for which article. I am shocked at the results. Also, it ended up being really long, sorry. I also found I'd switched from third to first person and had to edit the whole thing, so who knows it I got it all.

Sheila smiled, her eyes scanning his body in a way that made his heart race. This was really happening! "Are you sure you're ready for this? I'm not going to let you back out. You quit, that's forfeiting."

Neil nodded. Every since ninth grade, he had wanted to be close to Sheila. He had put himself to sleep by fantasizing that she loved him, that they were married, that she was kissing him, passionately. He had touched himself more times than he would admit picturing her peeling off her shirt, her pants. He had spent more time trying to picture her naked than he had doing math homework.

And hey, things weren't exactly how he'd pictured them, but here she was, and she wanted him.

"Okay," she said, her lip turning up in a smirk. "You know the rules. I get first deal." Her eyes drifted to his crotch, and his stomach did somersaults. "You're going to lose, you know."

"Talk is cheap," said Neil.

She shrugged. "Okay. I'll serve." Staring at him confidently, she tapped the tiny, plastic ball with her paddle and let it bounce, then swooped in her hand to grab it. She grinned. "Let's paddle some balls."

Finally, just before the senior prom, he had gotten the courage to ask her out. She'd looked straight into his eyes, smiled, and put her hand on his face. "Oh, Neil," she said. "You know, I've always really liked you. But you don't want to go out with me." She'd leaned in close and put her lips up against his ear, and if he had died right then, he probably would have died happy. "I have this secret," she said.

Somehow, Neil had found the his words hiding in the back of his throat. "Whatever it is, you can tell me."

She'd moved away then, a kind of light in the back of her eyes. "Are you coming to the Emily's party on Friday?"

He'd been thinking about it, but there was no question about it now. "Yes."

"We'll have some time to talk alone then."

Now, she twirled the plastic ball between her thumb and forefinger, biting her lip. "Ready? Three... two... one... annnnd serve!" she bounced the ball on the edge of the table and smacked it toward him. As she did, he could hardly believe himself, she actually licked her lips, and something about it caught him so off guard that the ball bounced neatly on his side of the net and plopped onto the floor.

Emily's party had been at her parents' lake house, which was spacious, remote, and best of all, entirely unsupervised. Sheila had convinced Emily to give them access, alone, to the basement, and that was where they were. Everyone else was upstairs, drinking, dancing, who knew what else. Whatever it was, Neil didn't care. The two of them were alone with the dusty ping pong table, with a door that had locked behind them.

"I told you that you were going to lose," she said.

He shrugged. "Wasn't ready."

"No excuses," she said. "Less complaining, more stripping."

When they'd first gotten down, she'd told him, again, that he didn't want to date her. "You're good-looking enough," she'd said. "And I like you. We've known each other for a long time."

But, there was her secret...

It had taken a long time for her to tell him, but finally, it had come out.

"I like hitting boys in the balls."

He hadn't know what to say She liked... what? "What do you mean?"

"I was pretty clear, Neil. I like kicking groins. Busting nuts. It's what I want the most from any boy. I want to abuse testicles. That's my secret."

Neil had been taken aback, but this was Sheila. There had to be a way to get past it.

"I guess I don't understand," said Neil. "Do you not want to like... kiss boys and stuff?"

"Are you asking me if I like sex?" she said, smirking.

He blushed. "Well..."

"I think about sex just like anybody else. But I don't think I could have a boyfriend who couldn't put up with having his balls busted, and I don't mean once a year or once a month. I want it all the time."

Neil gulped. He'd seen Sheila kick boys in the balls before, but it had always been some asshole who had deserved it. Just thinking about getting hit in the balls made his nuts ache.

"You're squirming," she said, crossing her legs. "I like it."

"I'm too in love with you to let this stop us," he said. "I don't want to to get kicked in the balls every day, but there's got to be some kind of a compromise."

"I wonder," she'd said, absently picking up the ping-pong paddle. "I've thought about a little test I could give you," she said. "We could play a little game..."

Now, staring at him, she snapped her fingers. "Come on, Neil," she said. "You lost a round. Roll the die and take your clothes off. No stalling."

He blushed. Nobody had seen him naked, not really, except for the people who didn't count, like doctors. It didn't matter. She'd thrown him off guard, but he was going to win. He grabbed the die from the side of the table and shook it up in his hands, letting it clatter onto his side of the table. It was a 1.

Eventually, she'd explained what she had in mind: they would play a game of strip ping pong. No cheating on the number of clothes: only shoes (together), socks, (together), shirt, bra, pants (a skirt, in her case), and underpants. Neil wore an undershirt, would would replace the bra for him. Every round, the loser was to strip off a piece of clothing. They'd roll a die to see which article of clothing they lost every round.

But there was a catch. "For every article of clothing I lose, you get to touch me. Let's say the first article, you can kiss me," she'd said. "The second article, you can use tongue. We'll work out the details. If you get to six, you get to do whatever you want with my naked body."

Neil had been absolutely dizzy. His wildest fantasies had not been this intensely erotic.

She'd put the ping pong ball on the table then and pressed her palm on it, grinding it against the dusty plastic. "For every article of clothing you lose, I get to bust your balls. Starting lightly. First article? Just a gentle sacktap. Second article, I'm kicking you in the nuts."

Neil had played ping-pong with his brother for ten years. Everyone had their moments, sure, but if he had to take a single nut tap to get the girl of his dreams naked, well...

They'd worked out the details. As she got more naked, he would win the right to grab her ass, to grope her boobs. If she could actually win a few rounds, well, his nuts were going to hurt. All she would tell him about six was that if he lost, his nuts were hers to do whatever she liked with.

And now he'd already lost the first round. He'd rolled that he had to lose his shirt. He unbuttoned the buttons, slowly, not daring to look at her, and finally tossed it behind him.

"Alright," he said. "Happy? You can see my muscles more clearly. Ready for the next round?"

"Not so fast, Neil," she said, and then, she beckoned with her hand. "You have to pay the testitax."

Neil gulped, reluctantly walking to her side of the table. "Okay," he said. "Let's get this over with."

"That's no way to look at it," she said, lifting his chin so that he was looking into her eyes. "We're starting a relationship here, Neil. This is going to be a huge part of it. Let's relish the moment." She looked deep into his eyes, and despite his fear and nerves, he felt himself getting hard. "Are you ready for your sacktap?"

He started to look down, and again, she pulled his face back up so that he was looking into her eyes. "Don't be embarrassed."

Easy for her to say! How could he not be embarrassed? But the way that she wanted him...

"I'm as ready as I'll ever-"

Before he could finish his sentence, the tips of her fingers flicked into his balls through his jeans. He had expected a dull ache, but the pain took him by surprise. It had been a long time since he'd gotten hit in the nuts, and the surprise of it made him cry out: "Auuuuwwwgh!" He cupped them with one of his hands, feeling the ache of it spread back through his testicles and into his stomach. "Fuck," he said.

"Awwww," she said, her eyes glittering, still holding up his chin. "It was just a little flick. You can take it for me, right?" she said.

He could. It hurt, but it would pass. And now, he would concentrate. He'd get back on his game, and he was going to beat the pants off of her.

Right now, though... There was something deeply emasculating about the way she relished his ball pain. Why couldn't she have been into... spanking, or bondage or something? He groaned, and stepped back from her.

"Alright," he said, "you got your beginner's luck. Let's get back to the game."

She smiled. The dim lights of the basement caught in her eyes. She was happy, but there was more behind it, something impenetrable. "Alright. Let's just hope your poor balls don't hold you back."

He grimaced. His nutsack did still sting, but the thrill of her attraction almost nullified it. He bounced the ball on the table. "You don't stand a chance," he said, and then tapped the ball across the table, lightly, easy.

He was ready for it when it came back, and this time, he aimed right for the far corner, giving it some speed.

It was like she teleported. She was just there, paddle ready, and he barely registered that she had hit it before it landed in the center, at the edge of his side, and bounced onto the floor.

She bit down on the bottom of her lip, closing her eyes, threw her head back, and laughed. "Too bad, Neil," she said. "I think you want me to win. Maybe you care more about me than your balls."

"You're good," he said, rolling the die. A two. Undershirt. "I might have underestimated you." He was a little thankful that is eyes were covered as he pulled the white t-shirt over his head. He picked up the ball and tossed it to her. "Guess it's your serve."

She laughed. "Ohhhhh, lover. You actually forgot, didn't you?"

Fuck. His balls.

"You're blushing," she said.

"Yeah, yeah. Can you get it over with?"

"You can back out," she said. "Remember, this is what it's always going to be like."

For a split second, he considered it. The balltap had been bad enough. But this was Sheila. He loved her. If he had to... Well, he didn't want to think about it, but if someone had told him that the only way to save her life was to lose his balls entirely, he'd have done it. What was a little game?

"I think I can it," he said.

"Too bad you didn't get me to strip off my shoes yet," she said, walking toward him. She was, he was pretty sure, swaying on purpose.

He hadn't even thought to look at her shoes, somehow. They were just a pair of Converse, thank God. No heels or pointed tips. He puts his hands behind his back and closed his eyes. "Alright," he said. "Let's go."

"Open your eyes," she said.

"Come on."

"This is my test," she said. "Open them. I want you to see."

He tried not to register his embarrassment as he did, finding her standing a couple of feet away from him. Okay, so she liked him to see. That was hard. He could take this one, final humiliation.

"Okay, I'm watching, take your shot."

"Come on, Neil," she said, playfully putting her index finger against her lips. "This is an important moment for us. It's the very first time that I'm going to kick you in the balls. We should save it."

Unable to help himself, Neil looked away, before bringing his face back to face her dark eyes. Her mouth was a hard line, determined, but her eyes were still smiling. "Please just do it," he said, incredulous at the words coming out of his mouth.

Her face lit up as she stifled laughter. "Okay, okay," she said. "Since you're so anxious to get your nuts kicked, let's just liiiiiiine up my shot..." As she spoke, she slow arced her leg, gently pressing the toe of her shoe into his groin, once, twice, three times...

"What do you think? Are you ready?" She brought her leg back and held it in the air, balancing on one foot.

Neil's instincts led him to look away, to close his eyes. As he resisted, he squirmed slightly, wiggling his hips.

"Okay," she said. "Look at my eye while it happens. Are you ready? One..." she said, lightly tapping him with her toe.

She was going to kick on tw-

Her foot collided with balls. Her legs had swung into his nuts so fast, he couldn't have possibly prepared himself, even if she had counted to three. Her shoe squished into the middle of his nutsack, hitting his left ball only slightly but crushing his right nut into his thigh, with a force that made it feel as though it were going to get sent back into his body.

This time, he had no willpower to resist how she saw him. "Ahhhhhh!" he said, clutching at his nuts with both hands his knees buckling. "My balls!"

She clapped her hands together. "Yes," she said.

"Uhhhhhh..." he managed.

"I love you," she said.

This time, the pain throbbed through both of his balls, and he felt just a little dizzy and nauseous. But despite his manhood being as hurt as it had ever been, she'd just said that she loved him.

He clutched at his nuts and managed to stand rather than falling to the floor. 'I love you too," he said. "Fuck. My balllllls."

"If you love me, get used to it," she said. "You're doing well. I'm going to make you mine."

He breathed deeply, and walked toward her. He had never needed anything more than to kiss her, right now, hard and long.

She took a step back. "Not yet," she said. "You have to earn it."

He took his hands off of his nuts and stumbled back to his side of the table. They hurt, but he would be okay. The right one might be a little swollen later. Okay.

"It's your serve," he said.

For a moment, he was really afraid when she raised her face to the sky and laughed out loud, a rich, throaty laugh. "I am so glad it was you," she said. "You really want me."

"Yes," he said.

"Good. I want you too, but maybe not in the way that you want. How about we..." she tapped the ball across the table without warning him. If he hadn't just been kicked in the nads, then maybe he would have been able to react, but as it was, the ball landed just over the net, bounced, and then landed, "Pop...Pop. Pop-pop-poppopoppo."

"That isn't fair," said Neil.

She shrugged, her face a mask of innocence. "We didn't lay out any rules about serving."

He rolled the die. Three. Was fate mocking him? Were they doing this in order?

She clapped, jumping up and down, and then rubbed her fingers together. "Drop your pants. Let's go."

In his fantasies, she'd removed his pants when she was half-naked, ready to kiss and massage his cock. Now, he was stripping like it was a show. He shifted his feet, feeling his face reddening. "Alright," he said. "Try to control yourself, here it comes." He turned around, so that he wouldn't have to look at her as he unzipped and unbuttoned his pants. Being turned away gave him the confidence to offer her a little wiggle as he bent down and pulled his pants down around his ankles, pulling and struggling to get them over his shoes.

"Mm," she said. "Nice."

Right now, he was pretty sure there weren't two better words in the English language.

Finally managing to get his pants off, while he was still turned away from her, he felt his balls. Supposedly, the next one was going to be worse, but surely a kick was worse than a knee? A kick had weapons behind it. Shoes.

"Come get your winnings," he said.

'You're nervous," she said, smiling.

"I'm fine."

"You're trying to hide it, but you're scared for your balls," she said. She walked up next to him and, oh God, oh yes, thank you, Universe, she was wrapping her arms around his bare chest. "Nervous for your nuts. How bad do they hurt right now?"

He shifted his legs. "Not going to give you the satisfaction."

She looked directly into his eyes. She was close enough to kiss, close enough to smell some kind of Wintergreen on her breath. She moved her face to the side, and -Was this happening? Was he awake?- licked his ear before lowering her voice and speaking directly into it: "Tell me how much your balls hurt, Neil."

He shifted his waist back. She was terrifying. She was sadistic. She was the love of his life, and he was doomed.

He cleared his throat, but couldn't find words.

"Be as descriptive as possible, and I'll be nice when I knee your balls. I'll go easy, if you can tell me how bad your nuts ache."

She was insane, wasn't she? Did he care? Was he insane? He looked into her brown eyes, into the shimmering delight in her pupils, and opened his mouth and shut it. And opened his mouth, and shut it.

Was she going to kick him like this sometimes? If so, she should understand what it felt like. How could he describe the sharp pain, the stinging, the ache, the-

Pain exploded in his balls as her knee slammed between his legs. Thank god, the left one took almost all of the brunt, and instead of squishing against his body, it was raised above it, straining and pressing into the middle of his erect penis.

"How does that feel?" she finished"

"Ohhhhhhhhhh," he said, and allowed himself to collapse. But no, she was holding him up. He slumped backward, and she held him in her arms. Her knee ground against his right ball for a moment, and it shifted left and right in the air, left and right, left and right... "My balls," he said, senselessly. Yes, he'd said it, but he couldn't say anything else. "My balls! Oh, god, my nuts!"

"That's right," she said. "I''m busting your balls."

"Unnnnnngh," said Neil.

"Yes," she said. "Oh, you're a quivering mess. How bad do your balls hurt?"

"Please..." he said.

"Tell me how bad they hurt or I'll grind my knee into them," she said. "Tell me about the castrating pain."

The word "castrating" only seemed to make him hurt worse.

"You got the left one, mostly," he said. "I... I thought it was going to rip right out of my sack."

"Mm," she said, pressing her nose against his, her lips brushing against his. "Is that embarrassing?"

"Yes," he said.

"Do you feel powerless?"

He hesitated, and her knee shifted against his boxers. "Do you feel powerless?"

"I... guess. Yes, kind of."

"Like I have you by the balls?"

"That's the next time I lose."

She laughed, pulling away from him.

"You're kicking my ass," he said.

"I'm kicking your balls," she retorted.

He clutched at them, heaving in breath. "How are you good at this?"

She shrugged. "Well, once I found out my future boyfriend played it, I practiced," she said. "I figured, if I wanted you to bet your balls, I'd have to make sure you were confident about it, but that I was unequivocally better."

Neil massaged his aching balls, trying to take this in. "You're... hustling me?"

She grinned, widely. "It's your serve, if you can still stand. If not, I'm happy to accept a forfeit."

Going from her cue, he tossed the ball up without warning and slammed it as hard as he could. He would prove to her that he still had balls, no matter how badly she'd been crushing them. It sailed straight over the table and landed on her side. He'd overshot it.

Again, she laughed heartily. The sound of it, by this point, made his nuts ache just to hear.

"I hope it's a four," she said.

He picked up the die, hoping it wasn't.

"I want to see you drop those shorts. Let's see some crushed nuts." He suddenly really didn't want to be naked in front of her, to have her see his swelling testes. Were they blue? Would she laugh at him?

As the die clattered, it rolled a six. His socks. He breathed a sigh of relief.

Shucking off his hiking boots and stripping off his socks, he braced himself. This would be worse than a knee, although he couldn't for the life of him remember what his ballbusting penalty was. He'd been so sure he was going to win. Putting his bare feet back into his shoes, he cracked his knuckles.

"I won't tell you to get it over with. You're going to torture me with it."

Her delight was palpable, but the visceral nature of her pleasure came through in a sort of emotional shimmer rather than a visceral reaction. Sheila was, as always, just staring straight at him with relentless, glittering eyes. She had a sort of half-smile on her face, as if the other side were biting her cheek.

"You love it," she said.

He didn't, but he loved her. "What's next?"

She shuffled up to him again, and ran her index finger down his bare chest, slowly, over his stomach and down to his boxers. She giggled a bit when she hit the elastic band and her fingertip tapped his erect cock. But then she pulled her hand back and felt around his boxers until she got a good grip on his manhood.

"What's next," she said, wrapping her other arm around his neck and speaking conspiratorially, her breath on his lips "What's next, Neil, is that I am going to squeeze your balls."

Fuck. She had thirty seconds. This was going to be agony.

"I love you," he said. "Go easy on me."

"I love you," she said. "And I am absolutely not," and here, her fingers closed around his testicles and started to compress them between her fingers "going to go easy on your balls."

He opened his mouth to yell, and found that she was covering his mouth.

"Shhhhhhh," she said. "They'll hear us upstairs."

She was focusing on his left nut, probably because of what he'd said before. Three of her fingers were pressing into it. Her thumb was crushing his right ball against the left one, while her index finger seemed on a mission to crush his right nut.

"I won't make it thirty seconds" he gasped, grasping at her back with hands, trying to convey his desperation, trying to beg.

"You will," she said. "Thirty seconds is going to be nothing, you'll see. You'll break records for how long I squeeze your balls. My deathgrip on your nuts is going to feel mundane."

He struggled, moving away from her, but it only felt like she was pulling on his sack. Struggling to find words to beg, all he could come up with was an old standard: "Please! My balls, please!"

Something beeped on her wrist, and she sighed. "That was thirty seconds," she said. "Tell me how bad it hurt."

As she released him, he curled into a ball cradling himself. "My balls"

"I want to hear about it," she said, leaning down to meet his eyes.

"My balls hurt so bad," he said, rocking back and forth.

"Did I get the left one, mostly?"

"You got them both," he said. "I actually think the right one hurts more. It's... it's the thumb and it's... uuuuugh. You used your strongest fingers."

"Awwwww," she said. "Well, that sort of evens it out, right? I kneed your left ball and squeezed the right one. When you lose next time, I could try to do them both evenly, or just work on the one I squeezed. What do you think?"

"Fuuuuuuuuuuck," he said.

She shrugged, walking away. "I'm going to take that as you want me to work more on your left nut."

"No!" he said, but Neil was onto her. He followed her "surprise serve" with his eyes, and even though his balls ached, he managed to get on top of it. She seemed shocked and unprepared; it tapped lightly on her side of the table and bounced a few times before settling to a rest.

He'd expected her to be as embarrassed as he was, but she grabbed the die nonchalantly and tossed it onto the table. A three. "Congrats," she said. "You actually won one." She turned around, grabbing her skirt and pulled it down, waggling her butt as she did. She was wearing a pair of thin, plain, black panties. The skirt went down over her shoes. She turned around to face him and tossed the skirt behind her. "I think that means you get a kiss. Come here."

She was right. He walked toward her. He had his groove back now. He was going to win. Her legs looked beautiful, and he desperately wanted to see what was underneath those panties. As he looked at them, she grabbed the back of his head and pressed her lips against his, sweetly, gently, closed-mouthed. It lasted only a second and a half and it was worth all 30 seconds of ball torture.

"Your serve," she said.

He had this. Yes, his balls were in agony, but he knew what he was doing. He didn't need surprise gimmicks. "Here it comes," he said, and he hit the ball into her court. She connected, easily, and his reflexes were just short of catching it.

She nodded. "Got cocky," she said. "Alright, high is your shoes, and low is your boxers." He crossed his fingers and tossed the die. A four. Phew. Slowly, trying to remember what pain his nuts would have to endure, he stripped his socks off. They still hurt so badly.

"Okay," she said. "Sorry. This is really going to hurt."

He cleared his throat. "Maybe we could do double or nothing?"

"Nice try, Neil. Get on the floor."

No. No, no, no. This was the stomp.

Wearing only his boxers, I crossed his legs. "Do you need to do this?"

She smiled, broadly. "Lie down on your back, Neil."

He did as she asked, crossing his arms behind his head. A stomp... she wouldn't castrate him, would she?

He could hear her walking up to him. He could see her, looking down at him. He was looking up at her panties-clad crotch, and his dick twitched within his boxers. "You're lucky I'm not wearing heels."

"You don't have to do this," I said.

"You don't have to do this," she said. "I'm giving you another chance. You can leave. I'll even let you put the rest of your clothes on, so you don't walk out in your boxers. Of course I don't have to stomp on your balls. I just want to."

And before he could respond, she had brought her foot crashing down on top of his nuts.

He had hoped that the angle would be awkward, that maybe she would miss and mostly stomp on his thigh or, hell, even his cock. She did not miss.

He yelled, probably attracting attention to the party-goers upstairs, as her shoe pinned both of his balls to hardwood floor. They caught the very edge of his balls. He found himself wishing she'd gotten just a bit more away from my body, that she'd only gotten the scrotum. His already tender balls were crushed under his her feet, and as I yelled, she ground her foot into them.

Completely instinctual, he grasped for her shoe, trying to pull it off.

"Take your medicine," she said, and pressed down harder, something I never would have thought possible.

"I'm going to scream!" he said. He was. He could feel it. The whole party would come down.

"Scream and I really press down," she said. "You'd better hold it in. This is a test, remember? To see if you can take me at my ballbustiest. You yell and I press down as hard as I can. I don' think you want that."

He hitched in breaths as she crunched his nuts into the ground. It felt like they were being separated from his body and crushed. Her panties, above him, were arousing in a very different way, in a way that made me feel terrified and inadequate. He could feel his cock deflating, and through the fabric of the boxers, it landed on her shoe.

Finally, mercifully, she stopped.

As her shoe pulled away from his testicles, he let his hand pull away from it and cradled his agonized masculinity.

"Don't talk this time," she said. "And take your time. I just want to watch."

He didn't want her to watch, but as she stared, he suddenly did want her to watch. Her fingers were poised over her panties, and her ass wriggled as she took in his agony. At one point, she even moaned a little. Under normal circumstances, he'd have been as hard a rock, but his balls were in too much agony for him to get an erection.

Finally, when he felt he could stand, what felt like forever later, he did.

"I'm going to beat you," he said. "And when I do, I'm going to fuck you."

"Are you ready?" she said.

He stumbled to his feet. He checked his balls. They were both swollen. His boxers probably looked like they were inflated.

"Serve," he said.

She did. His arrogance was immediately clear: he was in no position to play ping-pong. If it had been his brother on a normal day, he'd have hit it as easily as he could breathe.

She snapped the waistband of her panties, grinning. "Wow," she said. "Six to one. Not even I thought I could beat you that badly."

She did a little victory dance as she approached him. "Have you ever been naked in front of another girl before?"

"Not really," he said.

She grabbed his boxers and yanked them down before he was ready, pulling them to his knees. His cock flopped out, and, of course, his balls. Even the touch of the fabric as she yanked them down hurt.

"Mmmmmm," she said. She continued pulling them down, and, realizing he had been beaten, he stepped out of his boxer shorts. He was now completely naked.

"Too bad," she said. "You don't get to see my tits."

He could feel himself blushing as she stood up, staring down at his balls, which were indeed swollen and a little blue.

"I've never seen balls before," she said, "Except, you know, on the internet. Yours look pretty thoroughly stomped."

"I wonder why," he managed.

"Or a cock," she said. She pulled his face toward her, and massaged his balls with one hand while running a finger up and down the base of his dick with the other.

"I... can't believe you beat me."

"Well, I did. Your balls are officially mine," she said, giving them a light squeeze. He cringed.

"What are you going to do?"

"I want to make it hard first," she said.

She was a good way there already. No matter how his poor aching nuts protested, her finger against his cock was incredible. He had never been so humiliated and he had never been so aroused.

Eventually, he was not only hard, he was starting to feel that pleasurable tingle. Was she going to give him a handjob?

But as soon as he started wondering, she stopped.

"Okay," she said. "Put your hands behind your back."

"What are you going to do?"

"Whatever the fuck I want. I won," she said. To emphasize her point, she squeezed his left ball, hard. "Now do what I say."

Moaning,he put his arms behind his head.

She smiled. "Good boy." She walked away for a moment, to corner, where she unzipped a duffel bag.

Fuck. She'd brought something.

He stared at that triangle, at the place where legs converged. He'd lost this time, but he was going to fuck her. She wanted him. While he was pondering that, she cuffed his hands together behind his back. Bondage after all. Then she tied a gag in his mouth.

"You're going to do some screaming this time, I think," she said.

She wrapped her thumb and forefinger around the base of his nutsack, exposing how injured and swollen his testicles were. "You know," she said. "I guess the question is, how much do I care about your balls? I mean, I love you, but are these just toys? I don't want to have kids."

He shook his head, but she didn't even seem to see him. At least, not his face.

"I do love you, but does that mean I want to bust your balls every day, or does it mean there's something more to you? There are always nuts to kick."

He tried to speak and could not.

She slammed a small implement onto the floor in front of him. It was two, small thick plates of acryllic connected by screws that connected them together.

He immediately understood: this was a vise for his testicles.

As she spoke, she placed his balls in the vise and began fastening the screws, batting his cock back and forth with her fingers. "I mean, do I like sex, really? Or do I like how much you want sex, because of these?"

The vise began to close around his balls. It was a light gentle pressure, but he knew he was in trouble.

"Maybe it is all about the ballbusting for me. I could ask you if you could take that, but your dick would do the talking and say yes. The only way to find out for sure is, well..."

She turned the screws, and it was like she was squeezing his nuts again, an unbearable pressure. He moaned into his gag.

"See, it seems like you can't take it. Physically. I want to crush your balls badly enough that they might just pop. I'm not sure yet," she said, and this time, as the vise closed tighter, his nuts entered a new world of agony. His screams were probably loud enough that someone might have heard him even through the gag, if they hadn't been at a party.

"I'm just not sure," she said. And just to be sure he couldn't escape, she pinched his balls with one hand. "Do I love you so much that I want to bust your balls forever, or am I just attracted to you enough that I want to crush your balls completely?"

Slowly, looking deep into his eyes, she turned the screws with the hand that wasn't squeezing his compressed balls. The pain from his nuts swallowed everything else, all logic. He begged, he tried to squirm away, and still, she had him by the balls.

She hovered her fingers over the screw. "I guess the question, if I want know who I am, is do I love you more than I love ballbusting?"

As when he first asked her out, she leaned down and whispered into his ear. "I'd say you have about two turns of the screw to find out."

And as she kissed him, this time with an open-mouthed passion, she made the first turn. Her fingers twisted eagerly around the screw's knob. "What do you think? Is love eternal ballbusting, or is it just castration?"

Her fingers twitched, and in the matter of a micro-second, she could answer her question. In a bizarre twist of fate, he could only hope that she desperately wanted to torture his balls for a long time.

She used her fingers to squeeze his balls within the vise. "I think I have my answer."

Through the gag, he begged her to torture his nuts. It was his only hope.

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